


Hell Hath No Hold On A Warrior's Mind

by Dumbfacewriter



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers needs a hug too really, The Author Regrets Everything, the fabulous friendship of Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dumbfacewriter/pseuds/Dumbfacewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Captain America wakes up in the twenty first century, he thinks the ghosts haunting his mind are proof of his insanity. But as the years go by, the ghosts keep feeling a little more real, until he can't escape them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Hath No Hold On A Warrior's Mind

**Author's Note:**

> First baby steps in the Stucky fandom ! I could have gone easier on myself, but I like to live dangerously. I didn't tag all the stuff I could have tagged, because I really don't like giving spoilers on anything, but as mentionned, no archive warnings apply, and if anyone wants to be sure about a specific topic being breached, [my askbox is open](http://spookyfacemonster.tumblr.com/ask) !
> 
> Once again a huge thanks to [edetallen](http://edetallen.tumblr.com) for being an amazing cheerleader, and for still putting up with my writing related incoherent yelling.

Agent Coulson wasn’t allowed to see Captain America the first three days after the man regained consciousness. Not a lot of people were, mind you, but Phil had felt the days drag by at an incredibly slow pace, despite how hectic things were at SHIELD. He felt like a little boy listening to tales of courage and heroism once again, all over the place with excitement.

  
In his defense, it was quite something to get excited about. No one had thought they would ever find the plane, as no one was able to locate it right after the crash, let alone find an actual body, but not even a body, he was still _alive_ –

  
“Think about taking a breath in between two fanboy crises, maybe?”

  
Director Fury’s amused voice snapped him out of his train of thoughts and brought him right back in front of Captain America’s door. Phil took the advice and drew a deep breath in his lungs, keeping it there a few seconds before exhaling. He chuckled, turning to face Fury.

  
“Sorry. I guess I’m nervous, meeting a legend and all. Do you think he would sign my cards? They’re vintage, you know, really rare.”  
“Get a grip, Coulson” Fury said pleasantly, “I think every person you’ve ever met knows about your vintage cards, but keep them to yourself for now. The guy is unstable enough without learning about all that stuff.”  
“Yes of course, no need to overwhelm him. I’ll stay very appropriate.” Phil straightened his back, fussing a little over his suit jacket.  
“I’m sure you will” Fury assured him, and stepped in front of him, opening the door.

  
When Phil walked in, he felt thrown back in time, sent into a different world. SHIELD had put a lot of effort in making Captain America’s quarters as historically accurate as possible, and he had to applaud the result. He felt so out of place he was itching to get back outside.

  
He couldn’t possibly imagine what it had been like for the man sitting on the bed to land in the middle of Time Square, and know that he could never get out.

  
The Captain turned around to face them, snapping out of his staring at the fake window, and greeted them with a polite smile.

  
“Director Fury. Agent Coulson, pleasure to meet you. I’m assuming I don’t need to introduce myself?”  
“Not necessary, Captain. If you’re ready, I’ll just take you to your apartment now” Phil said, nervousness ebbing at the sight of a man smaller than he imagined, more real. More human.

The Captain nodded slightly and stood up, flexing his right hand as he looked around himself. There wasn’t anything to take, all he needed had already been transferred to the flat SHIELD had assigned him. He was leaving with just the clothes on his back. For some reason, that made Phil ache a little. It was obvious the man was unsettled and lost – damn it, not even a man, a boy, really. Phil hadn’t really thought of it; Captain America was older than any of them, but he was still almost a kid, getting thrown into the wild with no landmarks, no anchor, nothing left of the life he barely had the time to live. Yes, Phil ached a lot for that kid.

At that very moment, he decided he’d never bring up his vintage cards in front of him.

“I guess I’ll never be more ready than I am now, so let’s just do this.”  
“Alright. After you, Captain.” Phil gestured for him to step out the door, Fury leading them, and him behind, closing the door after them.  
“You know, Captain gets boring real quick in day to day conversations, so you can stop calling me that” he said, smiling slightly over his shoulder.  
“What do you want me to call you, then?”

Just before stepping out of the front door, into the real world, the foreign, twisted world, he turned to face him, and smiled a fake smile, the kind that everyone wants to believe, as if maybe, just maybe, things could be okay if he smiled through them.

“You can call me James.”

-

When they finally left him alone in the apartment, James heaved a huge sigh and sat down on the bed. He didn’t recognize anything around him, and he didn’t know if it was better or worse than the quarters SHIELD had put him in. There had been a sense of familiarity, at least, but all wrong. Like something he knew should feel like home, but still didn’t. At least, in this flat, he didn’t feel at home at all, and he could pinpoint all the reasons why.

The sounds outside were wrong, the light coming from the windows was wrong, the scent was wrong, the size was wrong –

And in the middle of it, James knew he was wrong, too. He could feel it deep inside, how he wasn’t quite who he had been, before. He knew his name, he recognized his own face in the mirror, he remembered his entire life, and yet.

And yet.

Three days since waking up, and he wasn’t entirely convinced it was all a trick of his mind, of Hydra, or anyone else. Nothing made sense, here. He’d crashed a plane what felt like less than a week ago, and there he was, 65 years later, not dead. Living on borrowed time. Defying God and life and everything he knew to be true. Impostor in his city, in his country.

He lifted his head a little, staring at the shield propped against the bedroom wall right in front of him. This felt wrong too, somehow. Stolen. He knew he’d wielded the shield, knew it was his in the memories of its shape and weight, knew they’d all called him Captain

_It’s not right it’s not right I’m not a Captain I’m not Captain Barnes can’t you hear how wrong it sounds –_

And yet. Everything felt wrong. Himself most of all.

James lied down on the bed, not bothering to take his clothes off or get under the covers. He stared at the ceiling above him, and hoped that maybe, if he wanted it enough, he could close his eyes and not open them again.

When he fell asleep, it felt like drowning.

-

Days went by, turning into weeks, and time was so slow it could have been years and it would have felt exactly the same.

It was like he was living a single, never ending day. Nothing ever changed: he got up, showered, got dressed, ate, took a walk, went home, went to sleep, got up. Nothing could set the days apart, nothing picked his interest, nothing nothing nothing. All day, every day.

He didn’t know if the world was dull, or if it knew, somehow, that he wasn’t supposed to be here. Knew it, felt it, and left him out of it, trying to right what was wrong.

The only thing he was looking forward to these days was the moment he could finally go to sleep. But that, too, was just another trick of this life. Most nights, he laid on the bed for hours, tired down to his bones and unable to shut his brain off. And when he finally went under, the worlds twisted in his dreams.

Memories of a life he could never get back were swirling around, but that wasn’t what kept James wondering if the ice had damaged him more than anyone could tell. He kept dreaming of things that had never existed. Small things, insignificant things, but so intricately linked to real memories that he couldn’t help but wonder.

But really, if he’d ever lived with someone else, he’d remember it.

It was the little things that were driving him up the wall, dreaming that he was pulling long hours at work to afford medication – but not for him, never for him, for –  
And waking up later, wondering where he’d stored the asthma cigarettes in this new apartment, and wondering why the hell he’d need them. But in that split second of near insanity, he was always certain that he had to remember where he’d put them.

Sometimes it was cooking for himself, and realizing halfway through that he’d never eaten a carrot after the age of ten, and he had still bought a bag of it, and now he was cooking with it. Wondering, all the time, who the hell he was doing these things for.

But most of all, it was almost saying something to someone on his right, before remembering there was no one else there. It was waking up and thinking the bed felt empty. It was being scared to hell that he was going mad, that someone would notice and lock him up.

So really, it was a blessing when aliens attacked New York two weeks after he woke up.

-

It was as good a distraction as any, and everything happened so fast that James didn’t even think of being thrown sideways by, well, aliens. Fury came to him in the flat, talking and talking about the Tesseract, and James only felt glad that something was finally happening.

Maybe it was what he’d been missing. Maybe he just wasn’t cut anymore for civilian life, after months spent fighting in the trenches, and after that destroying bases in Europe, months of blood and death and feeling useful and skilled, following, protecting –

SHIELD asked for Captain America, and when James put the suit on and grabbed the shield, he felt small and inadequate. But he told himself it would pass, he’d get back into the game of being the national icon, he’d get used to it once again.

He didn’t. He didn’t tell anyone about it, though. Who would it tell it to, anyway?

Meeting the rest of the team on board for that operation could have gone worse, but could have gone way better, too. James was ready to admit that maybe, just maybe, he could have made a bigger effort. But at that moment, surrounded by strangers, in a floating boat, or whatever the hell that was – and yes, that ten dollar bill was well deserved on Fury’s part, because that had surprised him alright – he’d only felt out of place, again. They all knew what they were doing, scientists and spies and agents, and he was there. Soldier waiting for a mission, waiting for orders, waiting. That part, he hated it.

So yes, when Stark started spouting bullshit, he could have handled it a lot better. He shouldn’t have reacted so quickly, so violently, lashing out at him for no obvious reason except for the rage he’d felt washing over him at those words, about being special and science experiment and uselessness. James had wanted to punch him, throw his to the ground, strangle him because he had no right, he had no right to talk like this about –

If the explosion outside hadn’t snapped him out of it, James was fairly sure he could have beaten Stark to a pulp right there. Small mercies.

Agent Coulson’s death, though, that wasn’t a mercy at all. But James definitely wasn’t stupid, and he could see right through Fury’s game. Didn’t make it any less true, Coulson had been a good agent, and from what he had seen, a good man. He’d be missed by a lot of people. But no one could deny how… convenient it was. Nothing brought a team together like shared trauma and guilt. And Fury knew exactly how to play his cards – not so figuratively speaking.

When the bloody cards came down on the table, James had a moment of near tunnel vision on them. The man drawn on them, objectively he knew it had to be him, but.  
But. Still there, right on the edge of his mind, constant reminder of his insanity, doubt. Because the man on the cards seemed familiar like someone you see right in front of you, not like your own body. He looked like someone he knew, once. Maybe someone from before the war, maybe, maybe –

But no, there was only one Captain America, and it was him. He threw the cards back on the table, and avoided looking at them. He had to stop chasing ghosts in his own head, no matter how close they felt.

-

Working with a team, giving orders and receiving them, that was familiar enough. He kept wanting to call after Morita or Falsworth, but always remembered right on time that he wasn’t working with them anymore. He’d read those files, those long two weeks of nothingness. He just had to get used to it, calling out new names.

So James found himself in the middle of an alien invasion in New York, in this city that already seemed to come out straight from a science fiction novel, and fought alongside his teammates, if they could be called that, shaky a team as it still was. And as he wielded the shield to protect himself and others, he itched for a rifle.

And when Stark disappeared through that wormhole with a nuclear head held above his head, when Natasha closed the portal and Stark wasn’t getting out of it, James realized that as much as he didn’t feel like he knew them, he sure as hell wasn’t ready to lose another soldier. So he stared at the sky, like they all were, and begged Stark to get out alive. Begged him to not be that much of an asshole, to not be a self-sacrificing fucking jerk, to not be another casualty added to the list.

When they saw him reappear in their own sky just before the portal closed, the entire team started breathing again. But James felt scared, so scared, more so than before, because Stark was falling and no one could see it, no one would catch him, and he’d just keep falling falling _why wasn’t anyone catching him_ –

It was only once that idiot came back to himself on the ground, the Avengers surrounding him, that James found the strength to breathe again. And he laughed, just a bit, still a lot more than he had these days, looked around him at the devastated city.

“We won.”

-

Later on, with Loki captured and Stark alive, taking them to eat shawarmas, James looked around him to his exhausted team, worn down thin but together and relaxed, and thought maybe. Maybe he could get used to life here. Maybe one day, he’d fall asleep without drowning first.

That night, James fell asleep as soon as his head touched his pillow, and dreamed of falling.

-

Months later, when Tony suggested that he moved in the Avengers tower, James said yes. He let Tony think he had won him over with promises of privacy and space, the entire floor belonging only to him. But really, James was just glad to move out of his SHIELD provided flat.

Picking the shield back up had been a blessing, he had to be honest with himself on that front. Fighting the good fight, protecting people, he was good at that, he was used to it. And even if he still didn’t feel like he had any right to be there, he found some sense of familiarity in that. Maybe if he helped the world be a little safer, it would accept him again.

The team was good, too. They sure were a dysfunctional bunch of people, but they all cared and looked out for each other. James always felt secure on the field, knowing that there was always someone to watch his back. They wouldn’t let him down, just like he wouldn’t let them down. He hadn’t realized right away that he’d been craving human contact after being thawed, but he knew now that without his team – his friends – he probably wouldn’t be half as good in his own head.

All that played a huge part on him accepting Tony’s offer, but the bigger one was probably the opportunity to get rid of the ghosts roaming in his apartment.

Even now, James wasn’t entirely sure if it had gotten better, or if he had become more skilled at hiding things from everyone, even himself. The dreams still came to him at night, but not every night. And when he was awake, he was less overcome with the urge to talk to someone who wasn’t there, or do something for someone else. Less didn’t mean it didn’t still occur regularly, though. But James always counted it as a win when he could go to bed at night and go back over the day without noticing anything strange.

He thought living with actual people could help with that. It was maybe just residual loneliness, and the Avengers could help with that, too. James was incontestably a people person, living on his own probably just wasn’t for him.

That’s how seven months into his new life, he was packing all the stuff he had accumulated into boxes, and wondering why moving on felt like betrayal.

-

“You know, if I’d known you were such a chef, I would’ve told you to move in like, five minutes after meeting you.”

James chuckled, and slid the omelet on Tony’s plate before filling his own. Tony didn’t even wait for him to get seated before he was ravishing the poor thing with his fork, and James realized he hadn’t felt sad for quite some time.

Turns out feeding people could be very therapeutic, too.

Soon after moving in, he had started cooking breakfast every day, and insisted on the whole team being there when they could. It always felt good to see them around a table, relaxed, eating and joking together, and James felt at home in this kitchen. Today though, most of the team was on some other business, so it was just him and Tony.

When they had met, James really hadn’t thought that they could ever become friends. Their rocky start had been mostly due to misunderstanding and a stressful environment, and once they had put all that behind them, a strange friendship had started to grow between them. Most of the time, they were joking around and teasing each other, but sometimes, when the mood struck, they had heart to heart conversations. That level of trust between them was reached by equally sharing some weaker part of themselves, and knowing that the other wouldn’t do anything with the information, because it would mean exposing themselves, too.

James enjoyed breakfasts with his team a lot; but sometimes, he enjoyed breakfasts with Tony just a bit more.

“Sorry I didn’t advertise my many cooking skills in the middle of an alien invasion, I’ll be sure to mention that first now.”  
“Don’t you dare, no one is allowed to steal you away from this kitchen. You’re stuck here, Barnes” Tony said, still shoveling his omelet in his mouth. This man had no manners in private, but it was actually relaxing to see someone not tripping over themselves trying to be absolutely perfect for Captain America. Refreshing. Home.

“I knew you only kept me around for the food, traitor.”  
“Well, not gonna lie, your dashing figure played a part too.” Tony winked at him, and James laughed, flipping him off.  
“Shut up and eat your damn omelet, Stark.”

Afterwards, James was doing the dishes – _“Seriously Barnes we have like, twelve dishwashers around here, why do you keep doing that?”_ – Tony leaned his hip on the sink next to him, and watched him work. Not offering help, though, privileged ass.

“D’you ever wonder if the arm maybe isn’t fully waterproof? Like, aren’t you worried some parts will rust?”

James looked at him, confused, before catching a glimpse of his left hand in the soapy water, and higher, his arm revealed by the rolled up sleeve, and what the hell, what was this –

All at once, it hit him. It wasn’t the first time, but for some reason, he kept forgetting that his left arm wasn’t exactly _his_.

Readjusting quickly, he shrugged, and kept on washing their plates.

“Never really thought about it, to be frank. Figured, as long as it works, I’m not worrying about it.”  
“Sure you don’t want me to take a quick look? You never know, could be useful.” James snorted at that, and gave Tony an amused look.  
“I know you just want an excuse to be a giant nerd about the tech. It’s okay Stark, you don’t have to lie about it, I know you.”

Tony huffed and pushed himself off the sink, heading to the door. “Fine, blame my nerd hobbies, see if I ever offer you my help anymore. Such disrespect, in my own house –“  
“It’s my house too, asshole!” James laughed.

Tony turned to look at him, strangely serious all of a sudden. “Seriously though, didn’t they tell you anything about maintenance when they gave it to you?”

James froze a little, and turned his back on him, glaring at the water. His right hand clenched in the sink, before he forced himself to relax it. He wasn’t ready to talk about that. Then again, he probably never would be, and he knew he could count on Tony to never bring it up again. Maybe it was time to make another leap of faith; he hadn’t been disappointed, so far. He took a deep breath in.

“I don’t remember the arm being installed. I don’t remember anything about it, I don’t even remember how I lost my arm. There’s a blank in my memory, I’m missing several days, and all I know is that I woke up in the military base with the clothes on my back, the shield, and a shiny new arm.”

Breath shaky, he went back to washing the plate in his hands – no, his hand and the thing that came from nowhere.

“You’re telling me you don’t even know for sure that it’s not the enemy that installed this thing.”  
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Stark.”  
“Oh my God, and you couldn’t have said that earlier?”

James turned back to Tony, caught him rubbing his hand over his face with a frustrated expression. He sighed, and looked back at him. Whatever he was going to say, James already knew he wouldn’t like it.

“I have to scan it, Barnes.”  
“No.”  
“Why do I even put up with your stubborn ass on a daily basis, I really wonder. Listen, you have no idea where it came from, okay, fine, I don’t fucking care. But no one knows what’s inside of it, and there could me something very dangerous in there, like, I dunno, deadly poison or something.”

James laughed a little at that. “Really, Stark? That’s what’s got your panties all twisted up? Look, if nothing happened so far, nothing’s ever gonna happen. And why would anyone give me a kick ass prosthetic with booby traps in it?”

Tony had an incredulous look on his face, like James had just said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. James frowned. “What?”  
“You really don’t get it, do you? You’re Captain America, Barnes. Half the world wanted you dead, back then, and a lot of people would be damn happy to wipe you from this planet right now. So yes, we’re scanning the arm, and no, that’s not an option. You’re coming down in the lab in an hour.”

Before James even had the time to try and protest, Tony was gone. His right hand clenched again in the water. He really wasn’t looking forward to anyone getting close to the arm, but he had to admit Tony was right on that one. It was usually way easier to ignore a problem until it went away, but this one was grafted in him. Maybe it was about time he started to deal with his own bullshit.

And really, he trusted Tony with his life.

James thought it’d be enough, but once he sat down in the reclining chair in the lab, the arm stretched out on a table, and Tony bent over it, he knew he was in for a hell of a ride.

-

_“It’s too late, Captain. The procedure is already started. See, we have […]”_

_“Take me instead.”_

_“No no please don’t –“_

_“Wipe him.”_

_“Please don’t do this, please, Steve!”_

-

“Stop.”

Tony straightened up immediately, rolling his chair away from James. Coming back to himself in bits and pieces, he realized he was shaking all over, breathing heavily. He was terrified.

He got up from the chair and paced around the lab, desperately trying to get back in the moment, not what he saw, what did he see –

“I’m sorry to say that when you’re in that state, but we’re gonna have to do a lot more than just a scan on that thing, Barnes.”

This had at least the effect of making him snap right back into himself, in the lab, with Tony, in the tower. Not back then. Not… Wherever the hell that had been. With…

Whose name had he called, again?

“What do you mean?”  
“Well, I didn’t think I’d find anything, I really mostly wanted to do it for precaution, you know? But, man, I don’t think the army gave that to you.”  
“It wasn’t the army.”

Tony startled a bit at that, obviously not expecting James to know anything about it. Understanding slowly downed on his face, quickly replaced with concern.

“You remembered something, didn’t you. When I was working on your arm.”

James nodded and turned his back to him, not wanting Tony to witness his small breakdown. He forced his breathing back under control, deep breath in, hold, and out, slowly, slowly, just like an asthma attack, he knew this, he knew how to do this, why the hell did he know this –

“Okay, we’re not talking about it, then. But, I have to take the arm out. Not just the arm, really, everything. So part of your left side, too.”  
“You have to?”  
“Barnes, you’re a walking time bomb. All the metal is riddled with explosives.”

And James felt himself sink back in his own head, knew he should fight it, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

-

He woke up –

No that wasn’t right. He wasn’t asleep, before.

He was on the couch in the main living room, the one all the Avengers could fit in comfortably and just hang out. Tony was beside him, doing God knew what on his Stark phone. When James looked out the window, he saw the sun way higher in the sky than it had been a moment ago.

“How long was I out?”

Tony’s head snapped up to him, and he abandoned his phone on the couch to look closer at him.

“So you’re finally back with us? You were out for a little over two hours. Please don’t do that when we’re alone, I have no idea how to deal with that stuff.”

Months ago, James would have taken the bait and risen to it, getting angry and starting an argument with Tony. Now though, he knew how to see Tony’s genuine concern etched in his words. He smiled.

“Yeah I’ll make sure there’s someone fit to babysit next time.” Tony gasped exaggeratedly.  
“What are you saying, Barnes, I’m an awesome babysitter, I’ll have you know.”

James smiled a bit more, and sighed, sinking a little more in the couch. He couldn’t remember why he’d been so scared earlier, why his mind had shut off like this. He knew he’d seen something from the past, something he had no idea was there, but it seemed distant now. Unimportant.

“So. Explosives, huh?”  
“Yup. And they didn’t go lightly on that one. You could probably take out an entire block with you.”

An entire block. James felt dread working its way through his guts, insidiously poisoning him. An entire fucking block.

“You have to take them out.”  
“I know, Barnes. I know.”

The silence that fell upon them was heavy with things left unsaid.  
  



End file.
